


Stockholm Syndrome

by chaosruby



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Creepypasta, Dom/sub, F/M, Gritty, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Murder, My First Work in This Fandom, Realistic, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 21:24:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosruby/pseuds/chaosruby
Summary: Stockholm Syndrome, def.-  a condition which causes hostages to develop a psychological alliance with their captors during captivity.Regardless of the pain and torture, you can't help but admire the man who has carved his own special fucked up path in life. Jeff owns you, and you let him.
Relationships: Jeffrey Woods | Jeff The Killer/Original Character(s), Jeffrey Woods | Jeff the Killer/Original Female Character(s), Jeffrey Woods | Jeff the Killer/Reader
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter One / Murder

The hooded man uses the shadows as his allies, moving swiftly between each dark spot like a lion hunting it's prey, concealed by it's surroundings and ready to strike. He's looking for an open window, an unlit home or a stray victim to kill. He's bloodthirsty. His knuckles are white as he grips the handle of his kitchen knife tightly, eager to make his move. 

There it is. His next victim. A pretty young woman taking long strides down the empty street, eager to make it home safely. She's unaware of his presence, her earphones blasting music into her ears at the highest volume - she thought a bit of fast music would encourage her to walk a bit faster. Regardless of her speed, she would be caught. Jeff followed behind her, silent as a mouse, hands placed innocently in his pocket. He could feel his mouth watering at the thoughts swirling around his mind. The blood, the screams, the thrill. He slid the blade against his fingertips gently, the sharp knife slicing them with ease. His fingers throbbed, the stinging feeling as the blood dripped out of the cuts riled him up more. It was time.

The girl was coming up to an alley, still oblivious to the man gaining speed behind her. His calloused hand raised, wrapping around her mouth from behind as he dragged her into the darkness. Her eyes widened as she started to struggle against his tight grip, until she felt the tip of his knife against the skin of her throat. She shaked uncontrollably, her small whimpers were pathetic. He yanked out her earphones so she could hear him.

Jeff's voice was rough, "Go to sleep, whore."

He slammed her against the brick wall next to them harshly, before slashing her throat from left to right. The sharp blade created a large deep gash, that let the blood squirt and seep out like a never ending waterfall. The thick red ooze had splattered over Jeff's white hoodie, delighting him for a moment. The kill may not have been as exciting as he would have preferred, but he loved the sight of gushing blood. 

He waited momentarily, then let go of her body and let it slump to the floor. He bent down and pulled on the earphones to find the source of the music. An MP3 player? What a great find. His mood lifted a little as he pocketed the device. He stood up and looked down at the body on the floor. He looked to be in deep thought, before he carefully put his knife in her mouth, slicing through the corners. He made her beautiful. Now she was always smiling.


	2. Chapter Two / He's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He comes home to you. You're delighted at his gift. He wants something in return. He's a man of few words. So are you. It's a fucked up life.

You waited idly in your locked room, reading a tatty blood stained book that had once belonged to a poor victim of your kidnapper. Or, should you say, your saviour. You thanked him religiously whenever you were graced with his presence. He took you to the boarded up abandoned flats you now call home, after he murdered your parents and brother, and although at first you were scared and angry - you let it go. He had chosen not to kill you, and that was something to be grateful for.

The four walls you were confined to had made you delusional. A small bed, which you were currently sitting on, sat in the corner. Dirty blood stained sheets that had never seen the light of day graced them, but you were used to them now. The room was mostly bare, apart from a few shelves that had small items that Jeff had gifted to you during your stay. Mostly stolen goods, but that was perfect for you.

You didn't know the exact time that Jeff had left the building, but it was definitely the dead of night. From the small hole in the boarded up window, it was darkness all around. The moon was only a slither, barely casting any light onto the earth below it. Just how Jeff liked it. The dim light in the room was just enough to enable you to read, although you were getting bored. You'd read this book countless times. You had three books in total, and one was missing the last 10 pages which made it basically useless. Jeff had ripped them out when he was mad once, one of the nicer punishments you had recieved. Although it had hurt as you hadn't read the ending yet - and now you never will - it wasn't as bad as the deep scars and fresh cuts you had littered over your skin. Or the destruction of your mental health.

With a hefty sigh, you closed the book and threw it into the corner of the room. You pulled your knees up to your chest, essentially hugging them as you waited patiently for Jeff to return. Left to your own thoughts, you day dreamed about Jeff's latest victim. Were they pretty? Were they obese? Did they scream loudly? Did they catch him? One day they'd find him, imprison him. Would you ever be found, or will you die here without ever seeing your hero again?

He didn't get caught today. The banging of his fists against the walls confirmed this. He trudged up the stairs, creating a swirl of fear and excitement in your body, making you shiver. His steps got louder as he got closer, until they stopped. He was outside your door. The clanging of keys hitting against each other was quiet, but you could just hear it. You sat up straight, crossing your legs and waiting.

The three locks were opened and the door almost flew off it's hinges from the large blow it had recieved from Jeff's open palm. He was covered in a mix of blood, some his own and the rest his victims. You knew when he re-opened his smile, he was going to be rough.

Surprisingly, he didn't move from his position by the door. Instead, throwing something small onto the bed. You blinked at him, waiting. He gave you a small nod, which encouraged you to get closer to the item he had thrown. A smile crept onto your face when you saw the small black music player. It even had earphones attached! This was your lucky day. The music was still playing, the buds gently vibrating against your fingertips as you eagerly stuck one into your ear. The melody of a song you'd never heard filled your head. You loved it. You locked eyes with Jeff, giving him a thankful smile. 

If it wasn't for his large bloody grin that was etched into his face, he would not be smiling back and you knew that. His real, terribly dry and chapped, lips were drawn into a slight sneer and his dead eyes were showing you he was not in a good mood. You didn't dare ask the dreaded question of 'are you okay?' as you knew it would end in a blood bath. You opted to take out the ear bud, muting the music and gently placing it under your pillow. You turned back to face him, now sitting on your the heels of your feet and placing your hands on your thighs. You patted the bed in front of you. He didn't budge. He was daring you to move with his beady eyes. You were forced to break the rules, gracefully standing up and walking over to stand in front of him.

He was a lot taller than you, and he smelled like garbage. Sweat, blood and dirt. You were used to the stench, even slightly attracted to it in your own little fucked up way. Just like he was attracted to you. He wanted you to suffer, to bleed, but also wanted you to feel pleasure with the pain. He liked to control you and liked it even better because you wanted it. 

You got closer to him, standing on your tip toes to slowly press your tongue against his rough textured skin, lapping up some of the blood. The metallic taste overwhelmed your mouth. You went back for more, your wet tongue licking him gently. You were enjoying the taste, closing your eyes in pleasure. He was still, quiet. You felt unsteady on your toes after being on them for a while, and grabbed his hoodie to hold you steady. You'd done it now.

His hand quickly made it's way to your throat, his grip hard as he swung you into the wall like a rag doll. Your body was used to his pushing and throwing, your limbs no longer at your control. He buried his head into your neck, his hot breath against your skin as he breathed heavily. His tongue made it's way from the base of your neck up to your ear, making you shudder. His grip hardened, a silent instruction for you not to move. You could barely breath under the pressure on your windpipe, willing yourself not to start choking and disturbing Jeff's vibe. He grazed his teeth against your skin, before biting down hard unexpectedly and drawing blood. He lapped it up like a hungry beast.

You couldn't help it. You clawed at his hand, begging for your airway to be cleared of his hold. His reaction was to sling you onto the bed harshly, climbing on top of you to trap you where you landed on the mattress. He placed his knife dangerously close to your head as he pulled his jumper over his head, throwing it onto the floor. His long pale torso was slightly toned even though he was rather thin and lanky. Taking hold of his prized possession once again, he placed the tip against your cheek, lightly cutting an elegant looking 'J' into your skin. Small beads of blood started to show, his lips finally smiling for real. His slit cheeks enlarged his smile, just like he wanted. He was beautiful and now so were you.

He held your face in one hand, squeezing your cheeks as he made you look at him, "Mine."

His ecstatic grin and wide eyes frightened many, but not you. You smiled at his simple word, despite the stinging in your cheek from the cut and the pressure from his grip drawing out more blood. Using his knife, he slashed at your top without caring whether he caught skin (which he usually did) and then did the same with your bottoms although he was a bit more careful when it came to your pussy. He had standards. It didn't stop him from kissing your chest sloppily, leaving a trail of blood and saliva. His tongue grazed your nipple, it hardening at his warm sensual touch. 

Jeff fumbled around with the zipper on his jeans as he sucked and licked your nipples, getting frustrated when he couldn't focus on doing both at once. He let out a roar-like sound, plunging the knife into the mattress in anger. That was new, you thought. Jeff then used both hands to free his erection, pulling his underwear down at the same time as his jeans. 

His cock wasn't at full fuck potential just yet. There was a sweet spot on your hip, a large bumpy scar, that he loved to slice open and stick his fingers in when he was fucking you. It was a space on your skin reserved for when he was at his maddest, when things didn't go right during his kill or when he was just extremely angry for no reason at all. He licked his lips at the thought of his hand, covered in your blood, and hearing your mixed moans of pleasure and deep pain. The pain of fingernails dug into an open wound, and the pleasure of him pounding into you relentlessly. Jeff felt like he was high.

His mad laughter filled your ears as he took hold of his knife once again, digging it into your hip. At your cry of pain, he grinned wider, pulling it out and creating another huge gash on the left side of your body. This was the first time he had ever cut both. Discarding his knife for the last time that night, he caressed the broken skin with his charred fingertips. Positioning himself quickly, and without warning or lubrication, he forced himself inside of you. Fortunately for him, you were always ready, wet and eager. Getting fucked by him was something you always wanted, no matter what.

He dug his fingers into the new wounds, blood decorating his hands and spilling down your skin to stain the already foul sheets. Jeff always finished rather quickly, rarely letting you reach your own orgasm. Maybe that's why you were always so ready for him? 

It was all too much for him, watching your blood drip, the warm feeling of being inside of you. He couldn't help it, the small groan leaving his lips as he pulled out of you, his cum covering your stomach. A beautiful of white and red against your pale body. He wasn't one to be ashamed of his quick finishes, especially when you'd lay there drifting in and out of consciousness afterwards, due to the pain you'd receive. 

Jeff dressed himself, leaving you momentarily before coming back with some alcoholic wipes and some bandages. He took care of his things. He couldn't let you die when you were his perfect pet.

He hurts you, then fixes you, and that's why you loved him so much. He'd ruined your life then made a new one from the remaining parts of you, creating a monster that only wanted him. And that's exactly what he wanted.


End file.
